


#dean never wins

by kototyph



Series: sleepy wincest ficlets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cranky!Dean, Ficlet, Little Spoon!Dean, M/M, Sharing a Bed, tumblrfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://kototyph.tumblr.com/post/36957875462/headcanon-when-hotels-only-have-singles-left">kototyph</a>:</p><blockquote>
  <p>headcanon:</p>
  <p>when hotels only have singles left, Sam and Dean play rock-paper-scissors— not for the bed, but to see who has to be the little spoon</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	#dean never wins

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Дин никогда не выигрывает](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5735386) by [avadakedavra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avadakedavra/pseuds/avadakedavra), [Wincent_Cester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wincent_Cester/pseuds/Wincent_Cester)



"This is crap," Dean huffs, all sharp edges and tense shoulders as Sam carefully maneuvers in behind him, reaches over him to turn out the light. "Hey! Maybe I was gonna read."

"Sure you were," Sam says, smirk hidden in the darkness as he sinks back into the lumpy mattress. "Give it up, you're exhausted."

He takes the elbow Dean aims at his gut as a matter of course, blocks it, and throws an arm over Dean's waist for balance, tucking his knees in tight so that they're molded together from neck to ankle. Dean's a hell of a lot warmer than the Minnesota motel room they've claimed for the night, radiating a solid kind of heat that has Sam sighing blissfully and pulling him in closer.

"Dude!" his brother protests, pushing at him. "I am not your freaking teddy bear!"

"You'll fall off if you keep that up," Sam murmurs sleepily, burying his face in the nape of Dean's neck.

Dean gives a full-body twitch. "Gah! Get your ice-cube nose the fuck away from me, Frosty!"

"Suit yourself."

Dean doesn't quite manage to fall off the bed, but that's mostly due to Sam not actually giving him any space to move. Dean squirms and twists and wiggles, and ends up in the same position he started in, maybe even a little bit closer: Sam's leg snugged up between his, chest plastered to his back, palm spread low on his stomach.

"Goddamn it," he mutters.

"Hm?" Sam answers, more asleep than not.

"You're a clingy motherfucker, you know that?"

"'S a small bed."

"Bet you have plenty of room over there," Dean grumbles, but his body is relaxing into Sam's now, weight shifting back as his muscles go loose.

Sam makes a vague noise of disagreement, tucks his arm more tightly around him. His brother's sullen, "I want a recount," is the last thing he hears before sleep drags him under.

(When he wakes up he's on his back and Dean is plastered to him, has a leg hitched over his and their fingers all tangled up, and Sam lies there for what must be an hour, smiling at the ceiling.

"You are so the little spoon," he whispers, when he tries to get up to get breakfast and Dean latches onto him with inarticulate "Nuh-uh" noises.)


End file.
